Ghosts In His Past
by Independence Undervalued
Summary: Dallas Winston has been haunted by his past ever since he left New York at the age of twelve. Several moments were key in shaping him into the greaser he became and the friendships that he formed. He learned no matter how far he was from the big city, he would never outrun the ghosts that followed him.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **So here's hoping you enjoy this one as well. Check out the song _In the Ghetto_ by Elvis. Seriously think it fits Dally's whole upbringing (in my mind).

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. S.E. Hinton owns _The Outsiders._

* * *

**Birth**

Dallas Christopher Winston was born on the ninth of November. It was one of the first chilly days of the year, the sky outside a gloomy gray. Sirens wailed in the streets below the hospital windows and taxis honked their horns loudly. The city noises filtered in through the open window, disrupting the peaceful mood inside.

Silently staring down at the face of her new baby boy, Loretta Poole did not smile. There was no joy blooming in her chest or overwhelming sense of happiness. She didn't show any sort of emotion, even as the nurses brought the little bundle to her and let her hold him for the first time.

She was devastated. This wasn't the life she wanted for any child and when she had realized she was pregnant, she had explored all potential ways out. She had made it clear when she met Jay Winston that a child was not an option, but things had escalated quickly between the two of them and nine months later, she brought their little boy into the world. He was watching her closely with bright blue eyes and Loretta felt her heart melt around the edges.

She bent down and kissed him gently on the forehead, sending him squirming away from the scratchy locks of her long hair. Loretta smirked and tickled his nose with a strand of white-blonde hair, watching him scrunch his face up in response.

"You're gonna be a handful, aren't you Dallas?"

He cocked his head slightly and watched her before opening his mouth and letting out a piercing wail. Loretta cringed back and began rocking him in her arms slowly, humming a random tune to soothe him as she rocked.

"Go to sleep now, baby. Mama's got you. Go to sleep," she whispered, silently praying his screeching would stop.

Finally his tears subsided and he fell asleep against the crook of her shoulder. As the weight of the sleeping baby intensified on her shoulder, everything began to sink in. She was young and going to be a mother with absolutely no one around to help her. Jay had gone back out West somewhere and her family had turned their backs on her a long time ago. And now, this little boy would have to grow up in the same, miserable neighborhood that she had, struggling with the same shitty life that his mother had before him.

And it was then that Loretta began to cry.

XxX

**Age Three**

Dally swung on the battered swingset, listening as the rusted metal creaked under his weight. He smirked and shoved off a little harder, wondering if he could break the set. His mom was sitting on the park bench closest to him, smoking and chatting with some guy that had wandered up to her. Dally glared at the man, not liking him for no reason he could name. There was just something there.

He swung a little higher and as the metal creaked even louder, Loretta finally looked over to where he was swinging. Dally waved happily back at her and saw her smirk at him, signaling he was okay to keep playing. She quickly turned back to the man and Dally lost interest in the swings, slowing down and eventually coming to a stop.

Glancing around the dingy New York playground, Dally searched for something that he could use to get his mom's attention back. She was a good mom, he knew that, but she had trouble sometimes. He was young, but he was shrewd and Dally knew that they were a struggling family. Still, she was the only family he had and he loved her. Grinning over at her, he watched as the man took a slip of paper from his mom and pinched her cheek.

He kicked at the dirt on the playground and something caught the light out of the corner of his eye. Dally squatted down to get a closer look and realized it was one of those shots that he got at the doctors office. He hated needles, he thought as he scrunched his nose up. They hurt. The nurses always jabbed him real hard when they gave him shots.

Dally reached out to grab the needle to show his mom when her hand clamped firmly around his arm and swept him up in one swift motion. Loretta was holding him tightly against her, but she had pulled back enough to look him in the face and Dally could tell he had done something wrong.

"Dallas, don't you ever touch nothin' like that, you hear me? That's somethin' you shouldn't ever, _ever_ touch. D'you understand me, Dally?"

Tears stung the corners of his eyes and he nodded, bowing his head. "Sorry, Ma. It's like the doctor shots."

She sighed heavily and began walking away from the playground with him. "You're right, that's like the doctor shots. Only that was dirty and didn't have any medicine in it. Dally, promise Mama you won't touch things like that ever again."

"I promise, Ma."

Loretta kissed his forehead and he rested his head on her shoulder. It wasn't until they were almost home that he realized the moisture on his face wasn't from rain or sweat. His mom was crying. Dally reached out and gently wiped one of her tears.

"Why're you cryin'?"

She gave him a sad smile and shook her head. "I'm alright, Dally. I just worry about you sometimes."

"I'll be real good, I promise." He gave her his best and brightest smile and it only widened as she laughed happily.

"I love you, Dally. You're my good boy."

Dally hugged his mother tightly. "I love you too, Mama."

ooooo

Subtly, Dally watched his mother from his place on the couch in the tiny living room. She was pacing the kitchen anxiously, a cigarette dangling from her lips as she ran her hands through her hair. He could tell she was worried about something, but she was a grown up and had grown up worries. He didn't need to worry about those things just yet. Loretta told him that every time he asked her what was wrong, so eventually he'd stopped asking.

Her hands kept fluttering to her stomach and when she realized what she was doing, his mom would curse darkly and resume her pacing. Maybe her tummy hurt, he reasoned as the cartoons on the television went on commercial. Walking over to her, Dally tugged on her pants to get her attention.

"Mama, if your tummy hurts you can sleep with my blanket tonight." His magic blanket always made his sick feelings better.

Loretta snuffed out her cigarette and knelt down so she was at eye level with her son. Dally smiled at her happily, loving to look at his mothers face. She didn't smile back, but rubbed his cheek with her thumb.

"I'll be alright, baby. You go on and watch some more TV. I'll be in in a minute."

He shrugged and gave her a tight hug before heading back to the couch. As he passed the counter he noticed a stick laying on a paper towel. Dally looked at it with his head cocked, trying to figure out just what it was. She must have noticed his gaze because she quickly swept it off of the table and into the garbage can near the door.

"Don't worry. Go on, the 'toons are back on."

A few weeks later, his mom told him that she had to go see a doctor. When she came back from her appointment, her eyes were red but Dally could tell she didn't feel sick any more. She hugged him close and watched TV with him that night, splitting a fast food dinner with him as they cuddled on the couch. Whatever the problem was, his mom reassured him that it was taken care of and he didn't have to worry any more. She was feeling a-okay.

Dally studied her carefully as she bustled around the kitchen that night, her signature smirk back in place and no more redness in her bright eyes. He smiled as he watched her and it wasn't until she had tucked him in that night that he realized he never saw her hands on her stomach again. Her tummyache must have been fixed, he thought as he drifted off to sleep. And Dally was glad.

XxX

**Age Six**

Dally sat at the kitchen counter, coloring a picture, when he heard their arguing start. It was some new guy that his mom had picked up the night before. She tried not to bring the guys back to their place, but it had been late and he knew she didn't want to leave him alone over night.

This guy was a hick, his accent clear even in a drunken slur. Dally glanced up, looking down the hallway to the bedroom, but the door remained fastened. He loved his mother and he worried about her, but there was one thing he definitely learned - don't _ever_ open that bedroom door when she was "working".

He had made that mistake once and had been hollered at by both his mother and her guest. Dally had been younger at the time and hadn't fully grasped what he had seen, but a few years was enough to tell him all he needed to know. His mother would either have guests over or she would go to a meeting place with them and do "business". For a six-year-old, he could do almost anything he wanted to except go in the bedroom when that door was closed.

It was pretty cool, being his age and able to run around and do what he wanted. It made him feel pretty cool, he thought with a smirk. Still, it bugged him knowing what his mom was doing and hearing the talk on the streets about her. Guys called her dirty names and the women all gave her those looks. That bugged him. She was a good mom and tried to make things better for him. Just 'cause she didn't have a nine to five job, people thought they could judge her.

Dally jumped as glass broke in the other room and he climbed down from his chair, hesitantly approaching the hallway. The door flew wide open and the hick stumbled out, cussing up a storm. He didn't even notice Dally as he careened down the hall and swung the front door open roughly.

"Don't e'spect no more calls from me 'er my friends, you fuckin' tramp!" The door slammed shut with enough force to shake the walls and then there was silence.

Creeping slowly, Dally peeked into the bedroom and searched for his mother. She was on all fours, carefully picking up the shattered remains of the lamp that had been on her end table. Loretta glanced up and saw him standing there. Her eyes widened and she tugged her robe around her tightly, holding up a hand to warn him away.

"You stay there, Dallas! Don't you come in here. There's glass everywhere, dammit," she called, grabbing more pieces from the floor.

"I can get the dustpan, Ma," he offered, turning to get it.

Behind him, his mother hissed in pain and he saw blood beading up on one of her fingers. He hurried to the closet and climbed on the small step ladder, grabbing the dustpan and the first aid kit from the shelf. Dally went back into the bedroom, careful to avoid the glass shards, and sat on the edge of the bed as he spread the first aid kit out on the comforter.

Loretta was watching him carefully and she smiled warmly at him, climbing up next to him. "You gonna patch me up, champ?"

He grinned a bit and grabbed her finger, wiping it gently with a cotton ball. His mother squirmed a bit, just like he did whenever she cleaned his cuts, and Dally let out a small giggle. After he selected a BandAid, he applied it to the cut and kissed the tip of her finger when he was done.

"There. That feel better?"

Another smile spread across his mother's face, making him feel warm inside. "You bet it does. What would I do without you, huh?"

He shrugged, drawing a laugh out of her and Loretta began tickling her son, thoughts of the broken lamp or the argument far from their minds, their laughter filling the small room. Dally loved her a whole lot. She might not have the best job or the best house, but she was his mom and he thought she was the best there was. Smiling up at her, Dally was happy. He would cling to memories like that one for the rest of his life.

XxX

**Age Ten**

When Dally got home from school one afternoon, he found his mother sitting on the kitchen counter, a cigarette hanging from her lips and a box of letters open in front of her. She glanced up and got that "caught" look on her face, trying to shove the letters behind her.

Dally threw his backpack on the floor and mounted the cabinet easily, sitting beside his mother with a smirk. She guiltily returned the smile and pulled the box back around so he could see it.

"I guess you have a right to see this," Loretta conceded. "This is your ole man. Lives out West. Oklahoma, I think."

Reaching in the box, Dally pulled out a picture of a man standing with an arm around his mother, both looking very young. They both had reckless grins on their faces, ones that Dally still saw from his mom on occasion. He studied the man in the picture carefully, searching for any signs of resemblance between him and the stranger.

"I don't look nothin' like that bum," he stated, handing the picture back to his mom.

"You're right," she agreed with another smirk. "You're my boy, that's for sure. His name's Jay Winston."

"Hey, how come I got his last name and not yours?"

She shrugged and snuffed out her smoke. "Seemed like the right thing to do, at the time. Anyways. That's your dad. I used to write him letters once in a while and got a couple back. Some pictures, too. They're yours as much as mine, if you wanna look at any of 'em."

Dally thought it over for a minute before grabbing the lid to the shoebox and closing it, looking at his mom with steady eyes. "We don't need 'im. You know that, right? You're a good Ma."

Her blue eyes welled up in a rare show of emotion and Loretta pulled him close to her, hugging him as they sat on the counter together. He leaned into the hug, relaxing into his mom's side. They sat that way for a long time, neither of them speaking for fear of ruining the moment.

Eventually, his mom planted a kiss on his head and climbed down, helping him to the floor. She glanced around their dingy kitchen and grimaced. Dally thought about offering to help clean up, but she saved him the concern.

"How about we go out to eat tonight, hm? I got some extra spendin' money saved up," she added with a smile.

Dally couldn't hide his excitement as he nodded. "Yeah, sure! That sounds real good."

She grabbed her purse from the counter and handed him his jacket. "Well let's get goin' then, kiddo!"

ooooo

Dally took a deep swig of his soda and held it out to the girl sitting beside him on the park bench, Diana. She smiled at him, revealing a near perfect set of teeth, and accepted the drink. She was his very first girlfriend and Dally thought he just might be in love. Diana was beautiful and the envy of the other girls in his neighborhood because of her hair. It was jet-black, long, and always kept in two braids that trailed down her back.

She was perfect.

Grinning at him, Diana handed the near empty bottle back. Dally shook his head and gave her a look.

"You didn't save hardly any for me, Di."

The young girl shrugged with another knowing smile. "It's the shits, huh?"

He laughed loudly and nodded. Diana was one of those girls that looked like a saint and swore like a sailor. It always made him laugh to hear those words coming out of her mouth, always followed by her cheery smile.

Across the park, a small crowd was gathering near the edge of the trees and loud hollering had started between two of the people standing there. Dally watched them carefully, but decided they were far enough away that they wouldn't bother them. He grabbed Diana's hand and held it as they sat, quietly talking. The river nearby bubbled softly and Dally had never felt so peaceful in all of his life.

Looking over, he opened his mouth to tell Diana just that when the first shots rang out. Realizing that the angry group that he'd observed had been packing heat, Dally dove from the bench and hit the ground. He tugged on Diana's hand and she fell beside him. Dally pulled her closer and covered her as best as he could, yelling that it would be alright. His shirt was growing damp from her tears and Dally held her tighter, trying to soothe her.

The shots finally stopped, the air still thick with the smell of gunpowder and fear. Dally glanced up and saw that the crowd had dispersed and turned his attention to Diana. It wasn't until then that he realized his shirt was wet, but not from tears. There was blood on his shirt, on the ground, on the bench. His eyes widened as he saw what had happened.

Other than the drops of bright red blood on her cheeks, Diana was ashen. Her normally radiant tan skin was quickly losing its color and becoming a scary gray shade. Her bright eyes were closed. Blood was pouring from the gaping hole in her head, more graphic than anything Dally had ever seen. She was breathing, but even as he watched, the breaths were slowing down and coming less frequently. He sniffled and held her closer, wanting her to feel some sense of comfort.

"I'm sorry, Di," he whispered, brushing loose strands of red-tinged hair out of her face.

She took one last rattling breath and let it out. Dally watched, waiting for another to follow it, but that was it. He'd witnessed his very first murder and wasn't sure what he was supposed to do now. The cops would come, though. That much he was certain of. Even in the movies, the bad guys always got caught by the good guys. He was too old to believe in Santa or the tooth fairy, but he hadn't yet outgrown the notion of police being the good guys.

So he waited. He sat in the park, cradling Diana's still body, staring off and watching for the cops. They were coming. He knew it. He could hear sirens in the distance, but when no police showed up, he told himself that they were chasing the bad guys. That had to be it. Yet as the light started to disappear from the sky and Diana's small frame began to chill, he knew.

He felt it in his gut, but it wasn't until night started to fall that he realized exactly what he had been afraid of - there was no one coming. Not one cop, not one evening jogger, not one good guy. It was just him and his dead girlfriend in the park. Dally learned a lot as he sat there, trying to figure out where to go from there.

Life lesson number one - never love anyone; they'll only leave.

Life lesson number two - there are no good guys.

* * *

**A/N: **So here's Dally's story. Not gonna be terribly long, obviously. Hope you've liked this chapter. I'm guessing one more.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Again, thanks. Sorry for the delay/deletion. Writer's block is definitely hounding me right now.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. S.E. Hinton owns _The Outsiders._

* * *

**Age Twelve**

Dally ate his lunch cheerfully, watching his mother as she bustled around the kitchen. She was humming, a cigarette in its place between her lips, and a smirk pulling the corners of her mouth up. Dally loved it when his mother was happy; it made him feel like everything might be alright. He knew she wanted to get them both out of New York and he knew she was unhappy. It made him feel guilty, watching her struggle to support them both.

She flashed him her smirky grin and Dally returned it with his own. Yep, he thought, days like this make it all worth it. He'd get them both out of the shithole apartment they were in one day. He'd save up his money and he'd buy them a nice little house somewhere. She deserved better than this.

The apartment buzzer went off and his mother hurried over to the speaker, pushing the button to speak.

"Yeah, whaddya want?"

She winked at Dally and he had to chuckle a bit. His mom was an overgrown kid. The speaker crackled a bit, making the person talking hard to understand. Dally heard the word "package" and Loretta shrugged, pressing the button again.

"Alright, c'mon up."

Dally grabbed his plate and dunked it in the sink, doing the rest of the dishes while he was there. A knock came from their door and Loretta went out to answer it. The apartment was quiet, so when the arguing started in the other room, Dally heard it as it escalated.

He heard the man's voice, a low rumbling sound. His mother replied, higher and with more emotion. There was a pause and then the sounds of struggling began. Dally turned off the water and crept to the edge of the kitchen, peering around the corner into the living room. His mother was propping herself against the door, but Dally could see the man's arms wedging himself firmly in the way.

Loretta's wide eyes caught his and she glanced around the house, eyes landing on the window. "Dally, get outta here! Get the hell out, Dallas. Now!"

That tiny bit of distraction was all the stranger needed and with one giant heave, he barreled into the apartment. Loretta went sprawling on the floor, crying out in pain. Dally was frozen, unsure what to do. He could easily climb down the fire escape and get away, but then what? Go get help? Yeah, right.

His mother gave him a desperate look and hurried to him, shoving him towards the window. "Dallas, _please! Go!"_

Until then, Dally hadn't understood his mother's fear. Loretta was a strong woman and she had given Dally that unwavering courage. Yet he could see it in her eyes, she was scared, and he didn't know why. Until he saw the metallic glint in the man's jacket. He was packing heat.

Dally's eyes widened and he actually threw the window open, preparing to climb out. His mom, relieved that he was finally in motion, took off down the hallway with the man hot on her tail. With one leg out of the window, Dally stopped. He heard them struggling and then his mom cried out, but whether it was pain or rage he couldn't be sure.

"Shit."

He got down from the window and looked around the kitchen, searching for something, _anything_ that he could use. His bright eyes landed on the knife lying near the sink and without thinking, he grabbed it and quietly crept towards the bedroom. Dally listened carefully as he walked to what was going on. He could still hear his mother struggling with the man, but something was different.

Swinging the door open silently, Dally felt rage build up in his gut, taking over his entire body. The man had his mother pinned down on the bed and was choking her with his large, beefy hands. Her eyes were still open and shining angrily, but her face was taking on an unhealthy gray shade, purple half-moons appearing beneath her eyes. Dally had to act and he had to act immediately.

As stealthy as a cat, he slunk forward with the knife firmly clenched in his fist. He would have one shot at this and if he missed, they were both dead - his mother and him. Loretta saw what he was about to do and Dally could see pure anguish in her eyes, but she didn't shake her head. She never told him not to. With a deep breath, Dally took the knife and plunged it deep into the man's back.

After Diana had died, he'd had nightmares for weeks about her blood. It had been everywhere, in his hair, on his clothes, covering his skin. He would wake up in a sheen of sweat and take nearly a half hour to calm down afterwards.

But all he could think about then, as the blade entered the stranger's back, was how warm it was. Blood.

Dally pulled his hand back and stared in wonder at the thick red liquid now pouring steadily from the man's back. He whirled around and stared at Dally incredulously. In spite of everything, that look made Dally laugh. It had been purely comic, the kind you'd see in the morning cartoons.

As he watched, the man collapsed to the floor, his right foot twitching once, twice, and then he was still. The man was dead. Dally had stabbed him.

His mother was coughing violently as she sat up, drawing in great, rasping breaths. She caught sight of her fallen attacker and groaned miserably, sinking back onto the bed and hiding her face in her hands. Dally frowned at her, confused. It wasn't that he was expecting her to throw herself at his feet and proclaim him her hero, but she could have said thanks. He'd just saved her ass and she was acting like ... well, like he'd just killed somebody.

Letting out a groan of his own, Dally went to put his head in his hands and froze. They were covered in the man's slick, wet blood. It was a bright red, much brighter than he'd thought it would be. Suddenly, Dally felt very sick. His stomach flipped uncomfortably and he thought he might lose his lunch right there in the bedroom.

"Deep breaths, Dallas. C'mon, sit down and take some deep breaths." His mother's voice was gravelly, but she was speaking and that much was good.

He let her lead him over to the chair in the corner and he did as she said, breathing deeply with his head down. What had he done?

He'd been in jail before, but as he stared at the man on the floor and the blood on his hands, he knew this was a much bigger deal than that had been. Dally'd spent the night in jail for vandalism and let out in the morning. This, though, was different. He'd killed somebody. This guys blood was literally on his hands and Dally knew how that would play out. He wasn't an idiot.

Loretta hurried around the apartment, grabbing random things and taking them out into the other room, moving quickly and stepping carefully around the still body on the floor. Dally turned his attention somewhere else, trying to ignore the nausea threatening to take over again. He searched for something to wipe his hands on, suddenly overwhelmed by the heavy, coppery scent that came with blood.

A towel was in his hands before he knew it and his mom was wiping them for him carefully, like he was six years old again. "Dallas, I want you to listen very carefully to me, alright? You're going away. I sent you to go see your dad. You left yesterday, but got held up along the way so you won't get there until late tomorrow. You weren't here when Vic came over. Do you understand what I'm sayin' to you?"

Her voice was calm and steady and Dally fed off of that. She had always been soothing to him in a strange way and even though he realized she was helping develop an alibi for him, he felt better. His mom would know what to do. She always did.

Slowly he nodded and she grabbed his face in her hands, rubbing his cheeks with her thumbs. "You're gonna be fine. You weren't here."

Dally nodded again, still in a daze. He was going to see his old man, the one that didn't give a hang about him. Surely the cops would know he'd done it though. They had to. Suddenly, Dally felt aware of every surface he had ever touched, every fleck of blood that had stained his pale hands. They would know.

"Ma," he croaked out, grabbing for her.

She glanced quickly at him and shook her head. "Don't you panic, Dallas. I didn't raise no baby, you hear me? You gotta be strong for me right now. You have to be if this is gonna work."

Without waiting for a reply, Loretta grabbed the small suitcase from the closet and shoved it into his hands, helping him to his feet and walking him out into the living room. She spun him around and pulled him to her, hugging him tightly. When they pulled apart, Dally was surprised to see tears on her cheeks.

"Go on. The bus'll be here in about fifteen minutes. You take it to the main station and then ask somebody for help. There's a picture in your jacket pocket with your daddy's address on it. You show it to somebody in charge and they'll tell you where to go." Loretta kissed his forehead gently and looked him in the eyes, bright blue locked on bright blue. "I love you, Dallas. I always have. Now, go on."

He tried to say something, _anything_, but his mouth was too dry. Loretta nodded at him and offered him a small smirk before shoving him gently into the hall, shutting the door tightly behind her. Dally knew time was against them, so with one last sad glance at the apartment door, he hurried down the hall with his bags behind him.

It wasn't until he was on the bus, heading for some place on the outside of New York, that Dally let it all sink in. What he had seen, what he had done, what he had felt. He had protected his mother in the only way he knew how, but even so he had committed murder. That wasn't something he could ever outrun and as New York disappeared around him, Dally let a few stray tears fall.

XxX

**Age Thirteen**

A few months later, Dally was sitting in the small, dingy house in the poor side of Tulsa, Oklahoma. Jay was up at the rodeo, probably fuckin' some farmhand, and he was stuck at home. Glaring sullenly around the house, Dally spat on the floor. He hated it. He hated everything about this goddamn town and it's stupid citizens.

Back home - because to him, New York would always be home - they had had _real _gangs. Guys packing heat, selling drugs, and pimping broads. Out here, all he'd seen were a couple organized groups of guys and some turf war going on between the rich kids and the poor kids. Stupid shits, he thought grimly. They don't know nothin' about gangs.

He'd kept to himself while adjusting to Tulsa and that led to him getting stir crazy. Dally didn't know many people around town, but sitting around the house wasn't too appealing these days. He'd seen a tough lookin' guy bumming around with a group of hoods that looked somewhat promising, but he hadn't had the guts to say anything to them yet. He was still sitting back, observing how the people out here worked.

Speak of the devil, he thought with a smirk.

Through the window, the guy he'd been thinking of came striding into view, a tagalong kid behind him. He'd seen them together countless times and it was clear to see the resemblance between the brothers. Dally grinned to himself as he sized up the other guy, wondering if he could take him on in a fight. Deciding he could, he headed for the door and vaulted over the fence, landing nimbly on the other side.

The noise got the tough guy's attention and he turned, seeing Dally for the first time. Dally didn't look away, instead he focused all of his energy into that glare, the one he had used to challenge so many others back home. The guy held his gaze and Dally could see a ghost of a smile on his face.

"You got a problem, slick?"

Dally shrugged. "That depends."

"On?"

"Who's askin'."

By now, the other guy had come closer and the two of them stood facing one another. The hood had dark blue eyes and a sly look about him that Dally admired, respected even. This guy was a true blue hood. The kid behind him was shifting uncomfortably and stepped forward, tugging on the other guy's jacket.

"C'mon, Tim. Ma'll kill us if we're late."

"Shut up, Curls."

The kid fell silent and Dally felt a smirk spread across his face. "So we gonna do this or what?"

"Waitin' on you. Ladies first."

Dally thought about it and figured why not. So, with one hard swing, he started the very first fist fight between him and Tim Shepard. When it was over, both boys were chuckling proudly and Tim shook Dally's bruised hand.

"Hey, you ain't too bad for a city kid. You got a name?"

"Dallas Winston."

"Jay's kid?"

He grimaced. "Could be."

The other guy, Tim, shrugged. "Tim Shepard. This here's my stupid kid brother, Curly. You dig okay, Dallas."

Dally grinned. "You too, Shepard. I still coulda kicked your ass."

"Keep tellin' yourself that," he smirked. "But, you ever wanna run with us, I'd take ya."

"Hey, thanks man."

They parted ways a few minutes later, nothing more important to be said between them, and Dally realized he'd actually made his first friend. He let out a laugh as he realized the ridiculousness of it all. He'd gotten in a fight with the kid, just to see how he would do out here and he'd walked away with an ally. Pretty damn good, he thought, heading for town.

ooooo

A few weeks later, Dally found himself hitting the town with Steve Randle, another kid who had moved to Tulsa from some other place. Steve was a good guy to have as a friend and even though he was nowhere near as streetwise as Dally himself was, he was a good companion. He kept his mouth shut and didn't have to ramble aimlessly just to shoot the breeze. He and Dally got along just fine.

Across the street, Sodapop Curtis waved excitedly and hurried over, kid brother Ponyboy right behind him. Steve and Soda were best friends, so Dally found himself hanging out with him as well. It wasn't a bad thing - Soda was just a bit more enthusiastic than Dally was used to. The kid was alright, kept to himself. Neither was anywhere near as bad as ...

"Hey, guys!"

"Hey, Two," Soda greeted, clapping hands with yet another member of their group.

Dally smirked and gave Two-Bit Mathews a firm clap on the back. Even though they were the most different in their group of friends, Dallas had to admit the guy grew on him. They got along in the same way that Steve got along with Soda. Two fell into step beside them and elbowed Dally firmly in the side.

"How's it hangin', ole Dally?"

"Watch it, Mathews. The day is young an' I ain't afraid to knock you 'round."

Two-Bit grinned and shoved his hands in his pockets, completely unshaken. Dally grinned and fell silent, letting the others carry the conversation on their own. They were heading towards Johnny's house and dally felt his attention turning there anyways, away from the group he was with.

Ever since coming to Tulsa, Dally had been struggling with images from his past. One of the most powerful was Diana's smiling face. It was burned in his memory like a white-hot flame. When Dally met Johnny shortly after he'd moved, he was struck by how much Johnny and Diana looked alike - especially the eyes. They were dark and haunted, old beyond their years.

"So, what's on the agenda for the afternoon," Soda was asking, an arm thrown around Ponyboy's slender shoulders.

"Let's swing by Johnny's," Dally offered. "Maybe hit the Ribbon, then?"

Two-Bit whooped his loud confirmation and Steve tripped him, snickering as his buddy went flying. Dally chuckled quietly and shoved his hands in his jacket as he walked, breathing in the spring air. That was one thing he had learned fairly quickly with these guys - there was very rarely a dull moment.

XxX

**Age Sixteen**

Steve and Dally were bumming around downtown, trying to figure out where to go lurk next. He never was a believer in fate, but something told him to head towards the theater. Later on, when he was laying in bed and going over the day, he would tell himself he'd heard their laughs and knew that the girls were by the theater. If he was being honest with himself, though, he knew it had nothing to do with that. He hadn't heard them anymore than he heard some divine voice telling him where to go.

Still, the duo headed towards the movie theater up on the corner and once it came into sight, so did the girls. There were five of them, clustered outside and laughing loudly. Dally sized them up, a smirk widening on his face. Out of the five, three looked like prudes and between the other two, he had eyes for only one.

Her hair was a brilliant blonde, too brilliant to be natural, he thought wryly. She stood facing him and Dally could just make out her feline features from there. He whistled lowly and Steve looked in the direction of his buddy's attention.

"Hey, man, I know you ain't cat-callin' at my woman, up there."

Confused, Dally scanned the rest of the girls and saw that the brunette he had passed over was indeed Evie, Steve's steady girl. "You kiddin'? Check out the blonde."

It was Steve's turn to chuckle and he shook his head as they stood, waiting for the streetlight to change. "Man, you'd be wise to stay away from that one. She's fuckin' crazy."

Dally let out a cheerful laugh and Steve grinned in return, knowing full well what he was thinking. He had said the magic word - crazy. Something about girls like her drove him wild and Dally knew the minute he saw her he had to have her. He said so to Steve and his buddy nodded, stepping out into the street with him.

"Well, she may be a bit beyond your pay scale, bud."

"Oh? And what makes you so sure?"

"She's an _older_ woman."

Whistling again, Dally felt a hunger deep in his gut that had nothing to do with food. Sights set, the two of them headed towards the group of girls and Dally smirked as Sylvia's hazel eyes found his face. He watched her as she sized him up and a small grin tugged at the corners of her lips. She leaned against the wall and pulled out a cigarette, lighting up casually.

"You got a light?"

He grinned and leaned next to her, playing with his lighter. "Well, sure would seem that way. Only thing is, I ain't no gentleman."

She gave him another glance over and her grin widened. "Good. Never had time for no sweethearts, anyhow."

Not bothering to hide the way his eyes were roaming, Dally took in her lean figure. Everything about her screamed tough, cool, and apeshit crazy. She was exactly what he wanted.

"You got a name, cowboy?"

Dally rolled his eyes and threw an arm around her shoulders. "I ain't no cowboy, sweets. You can call me Dallas, though."

"Oh, and how is that _not_ a cowboy name?"

"_Duke_ is a cowboy name."

"Duke is a dog's name," she retorted, elbowing him firmly in the side. "Are you plannin' on askin' me out, cowboy, or are you just gonna shoot the breeze?"

Dally actually took a step back, surprised. Ignoring the fact that she'd called him cowboy again, she had seen right through him without any effort. He didn't know what to say next. On her part, Sylvia looked quite proud of herself, smiling widely at him and revealing small, sharp teeth. She was goddamn perfect.

Mind made up, Dally grabbed her hand and tugged. "Let's blow this place, whaddya say to that?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

ooooo

Dally stared at them - a dozen or so pieces of paper that lay yellowing on the floor around him. His mothers neat scrawl stared back at him from each page. She had written him a letter, almost two a year, since he had left.

He was stunned. As far as the old man had told him, his mother never asked about him once he had come to Tulsa. Yet here, hidden in the depths of his closet was the truth.

She'd cared.

As a matter of fact, her last letter had been three months ago, according to the date on the top of the page.

Unsure what to think, Dally numbly gathered the brittle papers and took them into his room, tossing them on the floor beside his bed before flopping down with a heavy sigh. He heard the front door swing open with a violent creak and he smirked, listening to his old man stumble around the living room, cursing loudly.

He's drunk, Dally though as he snatched the letters up.

Good.

Palms itching like they always did before a good fight, Dally stepped out of the shadowy hallway and fixed Jay with his steely glare.

"Whaddyou want," he muttered darkly.

Dally's smirk broadened and he thrust the letters in his fathers face, actually laughing when the man shrunk back in surprise. "What're these, _pops_?"

He watched as Jay's beady eyes narrowed when he recognized her writing. Jay drew himself up to full height and came forward a step, challenging Dallas.

"The hell're you doin' in my room, huh? Ya nosy lil' shit."

Ignoring him, Dal stepped forward as well, their chests hitting each other whenever one of them took a breath in. "I asked first, asshole. Where're your manners at?"

He saw the hit coming a split second before it nailed him and he braced himself for the impact. Still, even a drunk Jay could pack a mean punch. Blinking away stars, Dally grabbed the man's shirt and shoved him hard, chuckling as he fell back. Jay nearly regained his footing, but struck the table at the last minute and went down in a heap.

Hateful black eyes glared up at him and Dally held the gaze with his own piercing glare. He saw his old man's hand seize the fallen vase and ducked as it whizzed over his head, smashing into the wall behind him. Jay cursed angrily and pulled himself up into an unsteady standing position.

Pointing a shaky finger towards the door, Jay began screaming at him. "Get out! Get the hell outta my house and don't even think 'bout comin' back. You ain't no kid of mine, you ungrateful lil' fuck."

His voice had reached such a loudness, it hurt Dally's head, but he refused to cringe away. Instead, he held his gaze a moment longer and grinned at him. Calmly, he leaned over and picked up his letters from the floor and grabbed the door.

Flipping his old man the bird, Dally smiled broadly. "Fuck you, old man."

He let the screen door swing shut with a violent slam and casually vaulted over the fence. His cheek throbbed as he hit the ground and Dally lit up a smoke, walking once more without any real direction. It was the last time he would ever see that old man.

XxX

**Age Seventeen**

Everything Dally had come to know, everything he had ever depended on, came collapsing down around him. It was like a massive earthquake had occurred and nothing, not a damn thing, was left untouched. For the first time in his life, Dally had no control over any of what was happening to him and it scared the hell out of him.

Diana had been the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She made Sylvia look like an old hag. But her blood - that bright red blood - had been on his hands and she'd breathed her last breath in his arms. Diana had died because he'd wanted to go to the park that day. Yet, he'd gotten through it.

Mr. and Mrs. C. had been good to him. No, they'd been damn good. They had been his family ever since he'd come out to Tulsa and he'd stood by while they were buried earlier in the year. And it had hurt like hell, but he'd pushed through it.

His mother had done the best she could with what she'd been given. She had loved him in the only way she knew how and had died alone because of it. Wasted away in that goddamn prison cell, all for a crime she didn't commit. And even if she had, she didn't deserve the sentence she'd been given. But still, he kept going. He still had something to fight for, to put all of his energy into.

But now, as he stared at Johnny's still body, Dally realized he had nothing left. He had invested everything in Johnny, all of his remaining compassion and all of his remaining hope. When the last breath had gone out of his friend, Dally saw all of that snuff out like a weak flame in a breeze. It was over.

Dally heard himself speaking from what felt like a great distance. He saw Ponyboy, still leaning over Johnny as if he expected him to talk once more. What had Johnny told him before he died? Why hadn't Johnny talked to him like that?

Fuck it all.

He slammed a fist into the wall, the foreign sting of tears burning in his eyes. He had to figure out his next move, where to go. He had to get out.

Spinning around, Dally stumbled out of the hospital room and down the sterile, white halls. Already a vague plan was beginning to take shape in his mind. He just hoped it would work.

ooooo

He was running, but without seeing much of where he was going. Dally vaguely remembered holding up the store and then calling his friends for help, but it had been such a blur. He was blocking it all out as best as he could, but things were still breaking through. There was pressure in his chest, a searing pain in his thigh and a stitch in his side, yet Dally pushed through it. He just kept running.

Their faces all flashed before his eyes. Mr. Curtis. Mrs. Curtis. His mother. Diana. Johnny. They had all left him. His mother had gone to prison and died there. Diana had been shot. And Johnny ... No. Don't think about it. Just run.

Dally focused on the sound his shoes made as they struck the wet pavement. A steady beat, thudding along with his heartbeat. The throbbing in his leg synced with his footsteps. The dark night was a blur around him, but the pain never faded. That was the most powerful feeling in his entire system and Dally let it consume him. Without that pain, he wasn't sure he would have the courage to follow through with his plan.

He felt the heavy, cold weight of the gun in his waistband. Dally remembered telling Ponyboy that he never kept it loaded. Even Tim gave him shit for not keeping bullets in it, but it was something he had always done.

The first screams of distant sirens reached his ears and Dally felt his heartbeat speed up, thudding powerfully against his chest. He pushed forward, knowing exactly where he wanted to end up. Dally knew how it was going to end, but he refused to think about it. Just a little farther now, he thought.

When the streetlight came into view, he let out a short laugh of relief. His lungs felt like they were filled with fire and he wasn't sure how much longer he could run. The sirens were all around him now, their warbling sound filling his ears. When he finally reached the light, he did what he knew he would all along - he took the cowardly way out.

That thought crossed his mind as he grabbed the heater from his pants, but he shoved it away. Who really gave a shit about bein' a coward? What'd he have to be a hero for anymore anyways?

As he raised the gun to the sky, he heard his friends screaming. They were screaming at him, at the cops, at everything. Dally felt a pang of guilt, knowing that they would see everything, but he focused on the faces he'd loved and lost and when the first shot rang out, he closed his eyes.

In movies, they had always made getting shot look so dramatic and so glamorous. The person would collapse to the ground and whisper some dying words to a loved one, shit like that. But the impact of the first bullet nearly took Dally down.

Fresh pain screamed from his shoulder, but Dally stayed standing. Then there was another and another and yet another. Damn cops, he thought hazily. His shoulder, his thigh, his gut - all of it was burning with excruciating pain. He wheeled around and the finally bullet caught him square in the back. Dally felt his legs give out and then he was falling, as if from a great height. The ground seemed so far away.

He heard footsteps rushing towards him and at first Dally wasn't sure who they were, so he tried to get away. His wounds cried out in protest, but he didn't want the fuzz watching him bleed out on the pavement. Dally caught sight of his friends and stopped struggling. Ponyboy's face was the last that he saw, white and stunned in the midst of the black night. Dally opened his mouth to try and say something, but he just tasted his own blood and gave up the effort.

As he collapsed on the ground, he saw them all standing around him. Not the gang, but everyone he had ever lost. Diana, smiling sadly at him with her beautiful braids and perfect smile, no blood in sight. Mr. and Mrs. Curtis, holding hands and watching him lovingly. Johnny, dark eyes no longer haunted and a small smile on his face, back perfectly healed. His mother, tears coursing down her angled cheeks, something in her eyes said that she had always known it would come to this.

"Hey, Ma."

The streets of New York appeared around him and as Dally let out his last breath, he was home.

* * *

**A/N: **Just a minor note, but I debated whether or not Dally would kill someone in order to protect his mom and in my opinion (and in this context), I believe he would.

Anyways, many thanks to those that enjoyed this. Again, many apologies for the delay. I'm not entirely sure what's up next. Ideas are fleeting. I have some, but nothing "good" haha.

As always,

-Independence Undervalued.


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